


Just Act Natural

by FalseProphet (Batmanthegroomer)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: MTMTE, minibots, minicons - Freeform, robot porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 21:36:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1241563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batmanthegroomer/pseuds/FalseProphet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU piece wherein Chromedome and Rewind and Tailgate and Cyclonus are just friends, leaving the two minibots unattached and Swerve invited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Act Natural

**Author's Note:**

> This is a commissioned piece for swindleoffical on Tumblr and is posted with permission.

"Are you uh... sure this is a good idea?"

"Are you kiddin'? Dis is th' best idea!" Rewind adjusted the camera's angle from atop his helm. He had the video feed linked up to his optics, just to make absolutely sure it was working.

"I've uh never done this on camera before." Swerve continued, seated across the room on the berth he shared with Tailgate and Rewind.

"Jus' pretend like the camera ain't even on." Rewind soothed, satisfied with his angle.

"Ahhh-ok."

"Here, I'll help." Tailgate chirped. He and Rewind had a touch more experience in front of the camera. They'd already fully explored the benefits of having a session of interfacing on film for later use. It was about time they brought Swerve in on it.

Tailgate leaned forward, pulling away his mask, and pressed his lips against Swerve's neck-cables. Swerve laughed nervously--a quiet sound--and reached up to put his hands on the eager minibot. As Tailgate's hands clamped around either side of Swerve's neck, the bartender put surprisingly dexterous digits on Tailgate's pauldrons. Swerve began rolling his thumb pads over Tailgate's joints, optics flickering at the soft sucking and pressing of delicate dental plates along his exposed cables.

Rewind kept himself back from the berth for the time being. A smirk spread over his face like new paint as he watched Tailgate try and ease Swerve into forgetting the camera. It seemed to be working, until Swerve turned his optics directly to the camera.

"Swerve, man, focus on Tailgate."

"I--Uh..."

Swerve's optics slid down from the camera to Rewind's face and then back to the berth. He tilted his helm affectionately towards Tailgate and tried to focus on keeping his optics away from Rewind's camera.

Rewind sighed and moved forward as Swerve's optics found a mark on the wall and locked on like a targeting program. Swerve had locked up with his need to focus on not looking at the camera. Tailgate's persuasive mouth was doing nothing to bring Swerve away from reality. The micro-cassette climbed up onto the berth behind Swerve. He ignored Swerve's noise of question--his attempt to turn his helm to follow where the camera was going--and placed his hands on Swerve's back.

Tailgate flicked his optics up to meet Rewind's from over Swerve's pauldron. Rewind motioned for Tailgate to push Swerve back and Tailgate nodded. Swerve stiffened as he found Tailgate's hands on his chestplates, pushing him back steadily into Rewind's waiting arms. Swerve took a second to tell himself to relax and then let himself be maneuvered between his companions.

Rewind shifted, spreading his legs so that Swerve could rest against his chest unhindered. He slid his hands around to rub near Swerve's neck, pulling the bartender back into a fully relaxed position. Tailgate moved to his knees, waiting until Swerve had settled against Rewind. He reached out and gripped Swerve's ankles.

Swerve's optics moved from what he could see of Rewind's hands on his chest to Tailgate, looming in front of him. Swerve's mouth parted in anticipation as Tailgate began sliding his hands up. Small, white palms glided over Swerve's calves to his knees where they slowly applied pressure. Tailgate eased Swerve's legs apart, propping them against Rewind's until the other two minibots were flush against one another in almost every way.

Tailgate's hands didn't stop there, and Rewind tilted his head ever-so-slightly to ensure he didn't miss a second. Hands moved dangerously slow up Swerve's thighs until fingertips played with the joints of red and white hips. Rewind felt Swerve stiffen and squirm in his lap, a breath that was almost a noise followed. The darkest minibot moved his hands until his fingers found the ridges on Swerve's chest. He began drawing his fingers lazily up and down the ridges, producing an odd sound like that of a human playing the washboard.

Tailgate slid himself forward on his knees until he was perched precariously close to Swerve's panel. He moved his optics pointedly to the aforementioned piece of anatomy before drawing his gaze to Swerve's. The barkeep had an unsteady look of arousal across his face, lips slightly parted and optics spiraled wide open. Tailgate made sure he had Swerve's full attention before sliding a hand to cover the full of Swerve's crotch plate, Autobot insignia and all.

"You know, Swerve, I've been meaning to ask..." Tailgate started conversationally, as if he were not rubbing the palm of his hand against Swerve's most intimate pieces. "Why put your badge here? Subliminal messaging?"

"'s the only place that made sense." Swerve managed to whisper, spinal strut quivering to remain straight under the attention. Tailgate's palm rutted right along the edge of his panel and it made everything inside twitch and strain.

"A-all the other logical p-places moved too much w-when I transformed." Swerve's voice was desperate to escape his vocal components. He was finding that with every word Tailgate increased pace or pressure, it was all he could do to keep himself talking for once.

"It w-was really the only op-option."

Rewind laughed softly as Tailgate managed to work Swerve undone in record time. He shifted to rest his chin atop Swerve's helm, optics focused on Tailgate's hands across Swerve's lower torso and panel. He began stroking his fingers horizontally along Swerve's ridges, throwing the room into silence save echoes of voices and the panting of it's occupants. The loud pop and hiss of Swerve's panel sliding aside and his spike pressurizing was quite a din. Rewind wondered how much audio editing he would have to do later, or if it might be better to leave it natural.

Tailgate pulled his hands away from Swerve's panel as the red minibot made himself available. He heard a soft groan in response as he began rubbing at hip joints again, leaving the exposed valve and spike untouched. Swerve was thick but short, a spike perfectly in proportion with his frame type. The ridges of light were a soft almost pink color, white along the underside and slightly darker at the top. The lights flickered discordantly in time with the clenching and relaxing of Swerve's valve aperature.

"Tailgate," Rewind said quietly, "run your thumb... on the underside of his spike."

Swerve panted out a sound he was not proud of. His optics spiraled open wider as he watched the command register and take hold of Tailgate. He tried to brace himself but Tailgate was always full of surprises. The minibot-in-the-middle arched and whined in static as a thumb pressed powerfully against the base of his spike. As Tailgate drew his digit upwards the pressure of the touch lessened. As the thumb met the head of Swerve's spike the bartender wasn't even sure if he was still being touched. He whimpered in response.

Rewind found the tingle in his lower panel practically impossible to ignore as Tailgate took his suggestion and worked with it. Rewind knew first hand how Tailgate liked to tease. The black minibot shifted to pull his hips back and released his own spike from it's panel. He bit his lip behind his mask as the head of his spike brushed against Swerve's lower back just enough to remind him how good contact felt. He managed to gather enough self control not to rut against Swerve's back, somehow.

Tailgate curled his hand around to the other side of Swerve's spike without so much as moving air around a single sensor node. He brushed his middle finger against the air above the base of Swerve's spike. He slowly drew his finger down the length of the spike, this time applying more pressure as he went. He could hear Swerve struggling to keep himself still and fairly quiet as the pressure of the touch increased. As Tailgate reached the tip he pressed harder and as his finger curved the head and pulled off, Swerve's spike jostled backwards and bobbed from the attention.

Swerve keened and arched back into Rewind. He felt the warm and slightly moist tip of Rewind's own spike against his spinal strut and he relaxed knowing he wasn't the only one so worked up and eager. He didn't have long to reflect on his partner's state before Tailgate again had his attention. Swerve braced himself and tried to move with the flow as Tailgate lifted his legs, sliding under them and straddling the berth awkwardly. Soon Swerve found his exposed panel pressed to Tailgate's closed one, his legs over Tailgate's thighs, and a smirk he felt in his gut on a white face.

Rewind didn't like that his view of things was hindered as Tailgate moved in, but he was starting to forget the camera was on himself. How he had thought he could be a participant and focus on filming was beyond him. He gripped Swerve's chest tightly, pulling the red minibot's back to his chest and feeling their ventilations speed up together. He slid one hand down low on Swerve's torso until it skirted the open lower panel. He pressed two fingertips against the plates near Swerve's valve.

Tailgate glanced down into his lap--now mingled with Swerve's--and relaxed enough to expose himself into the warming air. His spike pressurized to stand just a little taller than Swerve's but less thick. He braced a hand on Swerve's hip and took both spikes unapologetically in one hand. His moan tangled with Swerve's as he gripped the lengths and squeezed. He slowly pulled his hand up the spikes to the heads and found Swerve's hands on his shoulders, gripping tightly. He began stroking the spikes in tandem with long, slow, torturous pulls.

Swerve clenched his dental plates together and let his helm fall backwards. He could feel Rewind panting behind him as Tailgate jostled in front of him. He whined and parted his dentae to lick his lips. He rocked his hips in time with Tailgate's hands, watching in keen interest as the spikes pressed together and sent shivers up his spinal strut. The collection of soft pink moisture over the heads dripped down and stuck together, creating thin tendrils to further connect the interfacing equipment.

Rewind had never been the patient type, and he couldn't tease like Tailgate. He pressed a finger against the tight aperature of Swerve's valve and gained access almost instantly. He felt Swerve straighten as much as he could at the intrusion and buried his face into Swerve's shoulder blades. He swirled his penetrating finger slowly, making sure to hit every node along the entrance of Swerve's valve. He felt the heat and moisture escaping from around his finger hitting his palm and teasing him with inaccessibility, he could only reach so far. He tilted his hips and rubbed his spike against the back of Swerve's left hip.

Tailgate's optics moved up to watch Swerve's face, and his gaze kept slipping to Swerve's mouth. He caught glimpses of Swerve's glossa flicking out between his parted lips. He saw brief flashes of tightly clenched dental plates and the grimace of pleasure. Another flick of Swerve's glossa and Tailgate sighed wantonly. Swerve was damned good with that glossa, with his mouth. Tailgate's stroking hitched as he considered the warmth and wetness of that glossa on his spike. He lifted his hand from Swerve's hip and cupped his hand into the red minibot's cheek.

Swerve looked up from the display in his lap to meet Tailgate's optics. A white finger pressed against his mouth and Swerve didn't hesitate to take it in. He swirled his glossa around the length of Tailgate's finger, mimicing the movements of Rewind's finger within his valve. He lapped and curled and tried to urge the finger further into his mouth. It was responsive but cold and tasteless. Swerve knew he would disrupt Rewind but the sudden urge to be a more active participant took over. He pulled his legs up onto the berth, causing both Rewind and Tailgate to shift.

Rewind groaned in disappointment as Swerve moved and denied him friction. He sat back and watched as the red minibot shifted and moved himself onto the berth and it slowly clicked what was happening. Swerve was soon propped up on his knees, head bowing into Tailgate's lap. Rewind, however, was a touch more concerned with the view he was presented and he was glad for the camera. Swerve's valve was now relaxed and wet, aperature very lightly clenched after Rewind's brief exploration. The black minibot slowly reached out and pressed two fingers into the exposed valve, making sure his camera was properly positioned to watch the digits slowly slip inside.

Tailgate pressed his back to the wall behind him as Swerve's breath poured out over his open panel. His optics flickered as the red minibot looked up at him from looming over his spike. Tailgate nodded eagerly, hands moving to Swerve's helm as the bartender flicked out his glossa. Tailgate's optics staticed out as a wet glossa flirted with the head of his spike. He tightened his fingers into Swerve's helm as the red minibot continued to tease. Tailgate jerked and whined appreciatively as a startled Swerve gasped openly against Tailgate's spike. He wasn't sure what Rewind had done but he liked the reaction it caused.

Swerve took a moment to catch his breath from the unexpected intrusion of two eager digits. He made sure to pant openly over Tailgate's head, listening keenly to the shifting and moaning of the blue and white mech. Once he felt properly ventilated, he took Tailgate's spike into his mouth in one motion. He let the head rub along the roof of his mouth as he worked it down into his throat. He heard Tailgate gasp, felt fingers scratch against his helm encouragingly. He pressed his glossa flush and tightly to the underside of Tailgate's weeping spike and swallowed around the length.

Rewind knew he wasn't touching the audio track as his spreading of Swerve's valve was suddenly underscored by Tailgate moaning unabashedly. The black minibot leaned back to fully take in his fingers as they continued to work in and out of the clenching valve. He worked Swerve open until his fingers trailed thick webs of fluid into the air with each pull out. Rewind removed his fingers and quickly wrapped the sticky digits around his spike, coating it's length in Swerve's fluids. He continued to lean back at an odd angle to make sure his optics weren't the only thing to record his spike as he lined it up at Swerve's entrance and then slowly pushed in.

Tailgate began rubbing and squeezing at Swerve's helm and shoulders as the attention to his spike took away his ability to focus on much else. Swerve's glossa began petting at the length Tailgate offered, pausing every now and again to lap hungrily at the tip. Tailgate swooned and felt his spinal strut arching him against the back wall. Every time Swerve swallowed around him Tailgate thought he was going to come undone, but Swerve knew how to use his mouth. Each swallow brought Tailgate close to the edge but Swerve gently eased him back down with a calm, delicate and well trained glossa.

Swerve's optics blacked out as he tried to keep his mind online. His mouth was full of Tailgate's length and that alone was wonderful but then Rewind moved behind him and Swerve almost lost his control. He was tortured by a slow piercing from Rewind's spike, unable to thrust backwards and take it all in as it would have pulled him off of Tailgate's spike. He was forced to keen and whimper and wait until Rewind found pity and thrust in to the hilt. Swerve took out his frustrations on the spike in his mouth.

Rewind made sure to capture as much of his slow thrust in and a few half-thrusts out before he couldn't rightly do it anymore. He could watch it later but the noises, the clench and pull and heat and moisture around his spike left him frustrated with such a slow pace. He needed friction and the stab of electric feed-back from Swerve's over-stimulated valve. He leaned forward, gripped hard at Swerve's hips, and slid into welcoming tightness with no concern for visual clarity.

Tailgate was fast loosing his grip on control. He hunched over and found himself grasping desperately at Swerve's back, trying not to thrust deeper into his companion's talented mouth. He felt sensor nodes light up and send information zipping along his neural net as Swerve's tongue continued to work with his swallowing, interrupted every so often by a gasp or a moan from Swerve himself at Rewind's ministrations. Caught between Tailgate and Rewind, Swerve couldn't completely control himself and it was beautiful on all ends. Tailgate whimpered, feeling his frame lock up. He gasped and tried to suck in breath.

Swerve relaxed his joints and found Rewind's pace behind him a perfect match for the bobbing of his helm over Tailgate's spike. He let Rewind rock him back and forth, burying deliciously to the hilt with each re-entry. Rewind was longer than both Swerve and Tailgate--and the thinnest of the trio--and it meant he could reach the very edge of Swerve's valve, pushing against the highly sensitive nodes that only certain spikes could reach. Swerve was warned seconds too late by Tailgate and a flood of fluid filled his mouth.

Rewind yelped aloud as Swerve's valve suddenly tightened around him, squeezing him as if milking his spike towards completion. The black minibot stiffened to keep himself from collapsing onto Swerve's back. He had wanted to last longer, he had wanted to draw out the interfacing and go for some kind of record, but the warm pulsing and pulling of Swerve's valve--almost encouraging Rewind to finish--had other plans. Rewind's mask muffled a low, long groan as he finished in a low-key but no less explosive overload. He kneaded at Swerve's hips as he felt his spike pulse in time with valve walls.

Tailgate didn't breathe for a few moments, catching his breath in a contented sob. He lazily powered up his optics and tilted his helm down. He was rewarded with the sight of Swerve lifting away from Tailgate's spike. The red minibot's lips were pursed around fluid dripping from the corners of his mouth. Tailgate felt his face flush with hot energon.

"S-sorry." Tailgate said softly, sheepishly.

Swerve offered a breathless shake of his helm, wiping at his mouth with his thumb. He tried to lean back into Rewind's kneading hands, but was stopped as Tailgate grabbed him. He was instead urged forward and Tailgate nuzzled against his neck cables, biting and sucking. Swerve sighed and relaxed completely into the touches, his spike crying for attention he knew was coming. He powered on his optics and tried to look at Rewind from over his pauldron as he felt the third minibot's hands reach around from his hips to his exposed panel and his weeping spike.

Rewind rocked his depressurizing spike gently into Swerve's still clenching valve, attempting to stimulate as many nodes as possible while he still could. He gripped the base of Swindle's spike in one hand and cupped his thumb around the head with the other. He began rutting the heel of his palm into Swerve's spike, spreading the fluid around into a slick coating. Swerve had a habit of making a serious of short, chirping gasps when he was nearing overload and Rewind took it as encouragement to swirl his hand around faster. With a yelp and a thrust of Swerve's hips, Rewind's palm was filled with sticky fluid, dripping between his fingers.

Tailgate pulled away and relaxed completely against the wall, letting Swerve fall to rest on his chest. He heard shifting and soon Rewind was draped over Swerve's hips. For a few long moments the berthroom was quiet, filled with only the clicking of three tiny bodies shedding excess heat.

"So..." Swerve said hoarsely, "we all headed to the showers now?"

"Yeah, I'm not a fan of sticky." Rewind chuckled, holding his hand up to illustrate.

"I say this week we have a stay-in kind of movie night." Tailgate offered, off-topic.

"That sounds great. I think I know /just/ the movie too."


End file.
